It was 48F in our room when we woke up. Along with no lights during hours the
generator isn't running, now we had no heat in the room either. It sure didn't
feel much like a resort. To be fair, I had done the heater in when I had tried
to get the gas lamp working the night before, inadvertently shutting off the
heater's pilot light. Almost as soon as we were out of bed, we had all our
clothes on that we would start the day with. Then we had breakfast of cold
cereal by headlamp in our room. For this we paid $80 a night?

Day 3 at Lake Thomas Edison saw Rick and I heading to Silver Peak. Matthew had
been unsuccessful in convincing me to try both Senger and Hooper, and while
poring over the maps the previous night he came to realize it would be shorter
to approach via the Bear Creek TH, the same we had just used for Seven Gables.
Matthew decided to save those for another trip and turned his attention to
Graveyard Peak, located at the center of the Silver Divide. Not an SPS peak, but
purported to have some interesting class 3-4 climbing. Unlike Matthew, Rick and
I had not previously visited Silver Peak, and though it was known to be more
of a slog than exciting, we felt obliged to pay it a visit due to its SPS status.
It promised to be the easiest of four days, and I was looking forward to a peak
that took less than 10 hours to make the roundtrip. We didn't start as early
as we had the previous day, but at 6a when we hit the trail it was dark enough
to require headlamps.

It was also quite cold. Rick and I hiked in silence for the better part of half
an hour before it was light enough to get rid of the headlamps as well as our
extra layers of clothes. The hike to Devils Bathtub isn't particularly
interesting as it winds its way through the forest, steep for the last 20 minutes
or so before the lake. We reached the end of the trail at the lake about 7:40a,
pausing to take in a grand scene with a mirror-like reflection across the lake's
surface. Graveyard peak rose to the right (Matthew took a different
trail to approach from the east side so as to avoid the slog that is the South
Ridge), our pass over to Silver Peak to the left along the divide.

We hiked around the left side of the lake, at first over boulders a bit unwieldy,
but these soon gave out to a decent use trail for the second half of the trip
around the lake. In climbing to the hanging valley above Devils Bathtub, we
stayed well right of the slabs and creek, following a path through
the trees. As
the trees gave out we found ourselves in a meadow, the stream flowing
through the
center down to a trickle in the late season. We paused here to fill our water
bottles before heading up to the pass. We took a class 2-3 chute
that broke
through the cliffs on this side of the pass to the right a bit. Halfway up I
climbed out of the chute onto the left side solely to enjoy more class 3-4 rock
that could be found if one went out of their way a bit. This didn't last more
than 100 feet before the slope angle lessened and I was making my way through
dwarfed trees and sandy slopes towards the pass. Rick was a bit ahead of me as
we approached the pass, arriving a bit after 9:30p.

We took a short break as we took in the first view of
Silver Peak across the pass
from us. It had all the exciting prospects of a slog that we had been forwarned
of. We had to descent 400 feet or so off the other side of our pass
before
climbing up to the Silver Divide and Silver Peak. That elevation loss was already
disheartening though we knew about it from checking the map. Worse was that it
all looked to be boulders and talus all the way down and then all the way back
up again. Ugh. The wind was up today and blowing steadily along the ridges so
we didn't stay long. One last look behind us, then over and down
we went. The
dusting of snow from two nights previous was still evident on the shady north
side, and this slowed our progress somewhat.

Despite our gloom over the loss of elevation, it took us only 40 minutes to
reach the bottom and regain all the elevation we'd lost, and from there another
40 minutes to the talus-strewn summit of Silver Peak.
The best thing about the peak was the fine view to be had, including the
Clark Range, the Ritter Range, the gondola tower atop
Mammoth Mtn, Bloody Mtn, and many more peaks to the
northeast, southeast, and south.
Nothing to recommend the climb, however. We
signed into the summit register, noting entries going back about ten years. The
most interesting one to me was an entry from Bob Sumner who had made a dayhike
to the summit starting from Lake Mary in the Mammoth area - it made our outing
look like a walk in the park. As
it was but 11a, I suggested to Rick that we might make more of a day out of it
by hiking over to Sharktooth Peak, another mile to the northwest. Even better,
it looked like we could head back via a different trail over Arch Rock, and
perhaps climb Cockscomb on the way as well. Rick didn't take much convincing,
and once motivated to go, was eager to get off the summit of Silver.

We climbed down the easy class 2 NW Ridge before descending left
down sandy slopes for some 600ft to bypass Peak 11,444ft, then back up to
the Silver Divide.
Despite an impressive sounding name, Sharktooth is really just a pile of rubble
from almost all sides. By comparison it makes Silver Peak look good. It took us
an hour to make the traverse,
our only reward was to stand atop another named
rubble pile. No register to be found, and the views were less than we'd had from
Silver. We debated briefly the best, that is, the quickest way to get off our
rubble pile and down to the lakes below on the south side.
Rick was in favor of
descending the SW Ridge before peeling left down to the lakes. I was in favor
of taking the direct descent down the main chute on the South Face,
and after
our brief discussion we decided to each go separate ways. We picked a meeting
place along the shore of Rainbow Lake, then headed down. Ricks objection to the
direct chute was the loose appearance of the chute. It was indeed loose in the
upper half, though not so dangerous as it had appeared - we could have both
descended without fear of knocking rocks on each other. The lower part of the
chute was actually more enjoyable. There the chute was exposed to the bedrock
which had some fun class 2-3 scrambling. Water had cleared much of the loose
debris and carved interesting shapes into the gray, striated rock. As the chute
opened up I angled left looking for the sandiest sections I could descend, and
eventually made my way to Sedge Lake.
I stopped at the lake for ten minutes or
so to marvel at the numbers of trout I found swimming lazily in the water. None
of them was very big, but they were consistently all about 8 inches long.

From Sedge Lake I headed down steep, wooded slopes towards Rainbow Lake. Shortly
before reaching the lake I was surprised to see Rick below me heading up. I had
thought my descent was pretty fast, but evidently his was faster. He had found
cliffs below along the lake shore and was climbing up to get over them in order
to reach our meeting spot. It seemed a fortunate coincident that we would meet
up as we did. I hadn't noticed that I had passed the trail on my way down the
slope. It's fairly faint at this point and not very often used judging by the
condition we found it in. We lost it a few times as we followed it up to Big
Margaret Lake and over towards Cockscomb. It was 1:30p when we got to the
largest of the Margaret Lakes, Cockscomb now very close. I paused to see how
interested Rick was in giving it a go. "Well, I think you should
definitely climb it," was his reply. I gathered that his hesitation wasn't
due to his being tired, but rather his doubts about the technical difficulty. We
had no other beta on it other than what Matthew had told us he'd gathered from
reading a trip report of a party that hiked by it without climbing it: "It looks
like class 5." The East Face that we'd been staring at since we left Sharktooth
certainly had class 5 climbing on it, but it looked easier than that in the
center of the face.
I assured him it was likely to be class 3 or easier. It was just a guess which
though not admitted, Rick could easily surmise. He said he'd climb as far as he
was able. Good enough, and off we went.

We left the trail and headed to the
east side of Cockscomb, aiming for the
center of the face which we had seen earlier afforded the easiest ascent line.
Over slabs and boulders we clambered until we got to the base of a debris
chute which we followed up.
Where it got steeper we simply moved left onto
ledges and up some fun class 3 ramps, angling for the massive summit block that
was quite obvious from below. And as sometimes happen, it really did go at
class 3 or easier all the way to the summit block.

The summit block was a different matter altogether. From below it looked like
the prow of a ship, rising some 25 feet high, the top slanting down some to the
north. If there was any way to scramble up the thing, it seemed the north side
would be the most promising. Our line of ascent however, led more easily to the
south side, and rather than fight the line of least resistance I figured we
might as well go up to the south side to check it out, then retreat back around
to the north side if needed. Nothing on the east or south side of the block
looked at all climbable as we noted the sides rising nearly vertically above us,
overhanging quite a bit on the south side where it resembled the ship's prow.
I was about to suggest we head
back and around to the north side when I decided I ought to at least peer around
to the west side, thinking that side might afford an easier route to the
north side. No such luck in that regard - the west side of Cockscomb was nearly
vertical cliff (to a scrambler's eyes, anyway). It was all class 5 climbing on
that side, and no way we were going to use it to get around to the north. All
was not lost however. A 4-inch thick slab of granite had separated from the
summit block and fallen down a short distance, coming to rest leaning against
the west side of the summit block, itself at about a 65 degree angle.
If it could be climbed, it
looked like it might reach withing 8-9 feet of the top of the block. Surmounting
the leaning slab was no easy task, and I backed off two half-hearted
attempts
to do so. Between the slab and the summit block I could just get two hand
jams in to pull myself up, but there was almost nothing for me to push my feet
off as they were stretched to their limit between the slab and more solid ground
below. It would cost some skin, but the only way I could manage it was to
pull up my entire weight with the two hands jammed in the space. After the
initial grunt, I was up on easier ground, but still precariously perched on
four inches looking left off to what would certainly be a most seriously
painful fall - some earlier scramblers from a century ago might have described
it as an "abyss." The slab turned out to be triangular in shape, tapering to
a small point about 4-inches square at its highest point. To make it a bit
spicier, the upper two feet of the slab were broken from the larger main slab.
This did not sit well with me. The hollow sound that emanated from my kicking
the upper slab ascertained that it was indeed separated, but it didn't move any.
It weighed perhaps a couple hundred pounds, and seemed likely to stay where it
was if I didn't do anything to upset its center of gravity too much.
Cautiously I climbed up to
the top of the slab, by now fairly nervous. Before
me was a small crack running vertically up the summit block, the top of it
8 1/2 feet above me. Of course my reach is only 8 feet. The crack was too narrow
to get my fingers in. It might make a lovely aid crack, but it would do little
to help me up. My hands probed the granite on either side of the crack and
found small shelves I could just get the last joint of my fingers over. I looked
at Rick, with a big nervous smile on his face, camera at the ready, then looked
back at the rock. I did this several times weighing all those trade-offs one
makes before doing something stupid and foolish on the rock. Naturally it only
looks stupid and foolish afterwards. I decided if I was unable to pull
myself up I ought to be able to guide my feet back to a crash landing on
atop the slab I was standing upon. Maybe I could jam a pinky in the crack and
hang by that if it got really desperate. Fortunately I didn't have to find out
what it felt like to hang by one's pinky, and I was able to pull up, give my
feet some purchase on the slab, reach up and grab the top, and finally mantle
my way to the top. Whew!

My heart was still racing as I hurriedly snapped
a photo of Rick and a few of
the surrounding mountains. The summit was roomy - enough to hold dozens of
climbers. I went over to the north side to see if there was an easier way down
on that side. It dropped off at least 10 feet and I was unable to find anything
easier I might try - I'd have to retrace my steps. As often happens, the fear
of descending a dicey ascent turns out to be unjustified, and I found it easier
in
going down than in ascending.
As I returned to the solid footing where I
left Rick five minutes earlier, I asked him if he was going to give it a try.
He walked over to the slab and feigned like he was going to give it go, but
quickly retreated with a definitive, "No." He would leave it for another day,
one that included a rope, perhaps.

We descended the East Face via the route we had taken up,
and at the base of
the chute we traversed south so as to intersect the trail where it goes over
a saddle just south of Cockscomb. We had to back off a few cliffs we managed
to find ourselves atop during the traverse, but in 15 minutes or so we had
reconnected with the trail. From here, the South Face of Cockscomb
looks quite
formidable, and we guessed this was the view from which the earlier party had
guessed it to be fifth class. With all the technical scrambling over as well
as the cross-county portion, it was now just a long haul back to the
trailhead -
another 4 1/2 hours worth, as it turned out. Rick and I hiked together for the
next hour, past Fern, Coyote, and Frog Lakes,
just before the junction with
the trail heading over Arch Rock. Rick decided to take a rest break and resume
at a slower pace while I continued on. It was just before 4:30p when I finished
the last serious climb up to the crest, marking the border of the
John Muir
Wilderness. Heading down the other side, I had my eye out for the Arch Rock
formation, but I never saw it. Later Rick would report it not only being quite
obvious from the trail, but one of the most spectacular natural arches he'd ever
seen. Rats. The trails south of Arch Rock only roughly match their depiction on
the 7.5' map, but it was close enough that I had no trouble finding my way back.
Twilight was just ending as I neared the road junction to the trailhead where
Rick's car was parked. A car came by heading for the trailhead, and though it was
nearly dark I guessed it might be Matthew come to look for us. I had no headlamp
on so he didn't see me some 40 yards up the road as he passed by. I turned right
at the junction to head back to the Vermilion Resort, seeing no need to take the
quarter mile turn to the left and the trailhead - if it was indeed Matthew, I
guessed he'd find me on his way back.

It was just after 7p when I got back to our room. It was dark inside, but
Matthew's pack gave evidence that he'd already returned. I went to the store to
talk with Jim about getting the pilot light for the heater relit. I also got a
quick lesson on how to use the gas lamp so we wouldn't have to breakfast by
headlamp the next morning. I showered and started
dinner in the microwave when the others showed up some 30 minutes later. Matthew
had gone to the trailhead and waited until Rick returned. He had no good notion
what he would do at the trailhead if we hadn't shown up, but it did give
him time to think what might have kept us, and indeed it occurred to him that
we likely went on to Cockscomb or possibly Graveyard Peak. Rick made much better
time than I had expected, as I was thinking he might easily have been more than
an hour behind, judging from our Mt. Goddard outing. Matthew reported having a
great time on Graveyard, finding good class 3-4 rock on the East side as well as
the traverse between the two summits. It had been a very
fine day indeed, the best of the three so far, we all agreed. And it was the one
outing we hadn't even planned on before the trip begain.